


Brooding with a Brew

by Tish



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, International Tea Day, Introspection, Pre-Canon, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: As he prepares tea for the officers, Jopson ponders moments of weighty matters of tea and time.
Relationships: Thomas Jopson/Tea
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Brooding with a Brew

As the water in the kettle came to the boil, Jopson found himself staring into the flames. The scent from the open cannister brought back so many memories that he fumbled replacing the lid on the leaves.

***

The metal gleamed as he polished the teapot, and he smiled at his distorted reflection in the elegant, but simple craftsmanship. The table was set with the plate of biscuits, the fine china cups sat upon saucers and a tiny spoon shone brightly against each cup.

A tea service had been the first task Jopson had as a naval steward, and he battened down a slight attack of nerves. _Come on, Thomas, why are you so scared of officers? Just be polite and pour away_ , he'd scolded himself as he brushed away a stray lock of hair.

It had been easy enough to serve when becalmed, but the days and nights of stormy weather had forced him to become creative, and he'd had fantasies of nailing down cups and plates, and of designing cups with lids and spouts.

Calmer seas and the bustle of the dockside came, as did the sweet joy of the marketplaces. Fruits and vegetables, multicoloured spices, and the heavenly scents of the teas drew Jopson to linger far longer than he'd intended, and he always had to hurry back to his duties.

It was easy enough to mark the calendar by the falling level of the tea stores. Each scoop and each spoonful was accounted for, carefully rationed until the _Terror_ docked in Hobart-town and the chests refilled. To Jopson, it almost seemed that each voyage south to the Antarctic was measured in scoops and spoons.

***

Jopson examined the stores one final time, lingering at the tea chests. He remembered the Antarctic ice and wondered what if those horrific weather conditions had set in a little later during that last attempt to go south. The great walls of ice and icebergs could have trapped them for months on end as they struggled through the maze. 

Earlier, Jopson had seen Mr. Blanky on deck, the ice master gazing into the distance as though he could discern the Arctic ice from the Thames. There was an ethereal calm about the man that made Jopson feel all would be well, and he'd found himself smiling a warm greeting to Blanky as he went below to a reply of hearty and friendly laughter.

***

Clearing out the last of the stores, Jopson had taken every care to give as many remaining tiny luxuries to the remaining sailors as possible. The officers wouldn't miss a few portions of chocolate or a chest of tea, but such small, almost insignificant treats would give those brave men a little cheer, a little taste of home as they waited for the ice to break. Jopson once again remembered the Antarctic ice and the threat it posed. Well, now they were right in it, just on the opposite side of the world.

He inhaled the aroma of the tea, then set the filled tin onto the sideboard, satisfied that the wardroom was in good order. Now, these rough and ready sailors would dine on officers' china and sleep in their bunks in this strange new upside-down arrangement.

***

Each day now, he measured the barest necessary portion of water for the tea and took the smallest spoonful of leaves, stretching out the supplies until they would get to safety and civilisation. The alternative always lurked in the back of Jopson's mind, of dwindling supplies running to empty, of men dropping and unable to go further, of trekking miles to meet a futile doom of starvation.

The bubbling water snatched his attention back from the darkness in his mind. Checking the strainer was clear, he poured the water in and over the leaves, swirling the teapot around. He inhaled the aroma, staler and weakened now, but still able to revive a weary officer.

Each tea leaf was a precious thing now, the scent triggering thoughts of home, of voyages past, and of times that seemed so long ago.

Jopson set the beautifully patterned tin back in the stores chest, hoping and praying for the day he could once again refill it to the brim.


End file.
